


petty

by distractionpie



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Angry Sex, Arguing, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry, That's it, and they deserve each other, don't look at my fucking boner when we fight, it's all downhill from here, it's late and this is sloppy but idgaf, they are both so fucking petty, this entire fic was just an excuse to use that tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 03:37:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10562913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distractionpie/pseuds/distractionpie
Summary: Liebgott is hot when he's angry and Webster's not sure if he wants to fight him or fuck him.





	

"For fucks sake, what does it even matter?"

David slams the door behind him as he walks into their apartment then turns to Joe. "It matters," he explains slowly, "Because it shows some consideration for your fellow human beings."

Joe snorts. "Give it up, you're pissed because it's not way you like it," he says, "Plenty of people prefer it my way."

David rolls his eyes. "People who don't know better liking it like that doesn't make it right."

"People who don't know better?" Joe repeats, eyes flashing with anger. "Do you mean anybody using a way that hasn't been approved by your fancy fucking academic friends?"

"Oh don't make this a class thing," Webster sighs, even though he knows there are few things that set Joe off worse than the mention of social class. "I know it hurts your ego, but we both know I'm right about this."

Just like David's suspected, Joe snaps, dropping the last grocery bag to the floor and shoving him up against the wall, one hand sprawled high on David’s shoulder so that Joe thumb lands across David’s neck. "You're so fucking petty," Joe growls, his hot breath against Webster's ear sending a shiver down his spine.

"I'm petty?" David sneers. "You were the one who decided to pick a fight in the middle of the grocery store."

Joe is dismissive. “It wasn’t a fight.”

“You called me stupid,” David says.

“I called what you were doing stupid,” Joe corrects, as if David is likely to be swayed by pedantry. “And then you decided to be a bitch about it.”

“You blew the whole thing out of proportion,” David starts but Joe rolls his eyes, thumb digging in to David’s throat ever so slightly in a way that made David feel like all of the blood meant for his head is rushing south instead.

He knows there isn't anything he can do about it, the fact he wants to hit Joe right now does nothing to calm his racing heart, and there's something about Lieb's smirking arrogant temper that always does it for him, no matter how much he tries to hide that fact. The very first time he'd seen Joe throw down with some guy in a bar David hadn't been able to get up from his table for ten minutes for fear of ending up facing indecency charges he'd been so hard, and the fact that Joe's anger is now being turned on him doesn't diminish the effect at all. If anything it just adds to the thrill. The best he can do is shift his hips, trying to find an angle that would reduce the pull of his trousers and make his situation less obvious. His head might want to shut Joe down with reason and logic, put his bad attitude in its place, but the rest of David wants to see how far he can push him, what he might be goaded into. There are more sharp words resting on the tip of his tongue when Joe’s free hand snakes under David’s shirt, short nails scrapping roughly over the sensitive base of his spine and startling a groan out of him.

"Oh..." Joe says, and for a moment his anger is smoothed over by an almost innocent look of surprise. But it’s a fleeting look, before he says, "Oh, you _like_ that." He leans back, putting enough space between them that he can leer down at the traitorous bulge in Webster's slacks. "You want me to rough you up a bit, do you Webster? Is that what this prissy shit is about - you acting out just to make me angry?"

David is not about to be undermined by his own dick. "Fuck you," he snarls, even as the blood rushes to his cheeks. "You were acting like a bastard and you know it." He hooks a leg around Joe’s and grips his shirt tightly, spinning them and slamming Joe into the wall hard enough that the picture frames rattle.

As their hips crash together, David can feel that for all of his arrogance Joe is just as affected by this as he is and he rolls his hips, the faint embarrassment at Joe noticing his arousal giving way to an urge to do something about it.

"C’mon Web,” Joe snarls, pressing his thigh hard between David’s legs, “Just admit it.”

"Make me," he hisses and doesn't realise it's an error until Joe's knees are hitting the ground and Joe is looking up at him with an expression far too predatory for the position that he's in.

He makes quick work of David’s pants, and when that sinful mouth wraps around him David’s fury is drowned by wave of arousal coursing through him.

It’s sloppy, and Lieb is being careless with his teeth, but the tiny scrapes, the sharp sense of something that isn’t quite danger but is something close feeds into the messy tangle of anger and need that pulses through him. He runs his hands through Joe’s hair and part of him is tempted to pull but he thinks that in this temper Joe just might bite for real so he settles for carding his fingers through the soft strands, taking a secret joy in mussing it.

After a few minutes, David can feel the edge coming, his thighs starting to tremble against his will, his hips twitching no matter how hard he tries to hold still and Joe must recognise it too because he pulls off with a wet pop. "Tell me I'm right," he demands. “You know you want to.”

David removes his hand from Joe's hair, wrapping it around his spit slick cock and stroking defiantly. He's not going to be baited into conceding this easily. The sight of Joe on his knees, his hair even messier than usual and those red lips wet and parted, and the beautiful defiance in his eyes as he glares up at David through the dark fan of his lashes - it's more than enough to satisfy him.

He feels a wicked curl of triumph at the way Joe’s eyes widen when he realises his little ploy hasn’t worked and then everything is lost to the bright haze of lust and pleasure and it’s all he can do to keep his feet under him as he comes, before slowly blinking back to his sense to the sight of Joe’s pretty mouth striped with come.

“You’re an asshole, Web,” Joe grumbles, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. "And I’m still right. You don't need to double bag shit when it's only going from the checkout to the car and then from the car straight inside, the bags aren't gonna split over a hundred yards."

"That might work with plastic bags, but with paper bags the chilled produce gets condensation and then the paper gets wet and it disintegrates,” David points out offering Joe a hand and pulling him to his feet. “Anyway, you need to start remembering to bring the canvas ones.”

“You remember them,” Joe argues, even as he wraps his arms around David and rubs up against him as if David might have forgotten the state he was in. “Now, have we fought enough for make-up sex yet?”


End file.
